First Love's Palette
by SimpleTea
Summary: A compilation of Hinata/Character Pairings.


**Sunday is blueberry-dye  
**The color of her hair.

* * *

Hinata gazes at the reflection in the mirror, staring back into her seemingly iris–less, pallid eyes.

She's perfect yet diverges, the space between her eyebrows drawing in closer to only crinkle at her own visage. Eyes closed, she mimics the glass replica as it rakes a hand through its damp tendrils, starting from its roots and approximately twenty inches down. Uneven frays start to brush against her elbows as nails comb, sprinkling tiny water particles against her already chilled skin. It's an indigo color almost—as if someone took a bucket of freshly pressed blueberries and soaked her hair in it.

Funny though, it kind of smells like vanilla rum.

With an elbow dug into the bed sheets, I prop my chin in the palm of my right hand and lay on my stomach, kicking my legs alternatively back and forth. I fall a little more in love with Hinata when I catch her in small moments; when she's oblivious to my gaze and she is mine and mine alone. Times where she'll absently twirl a strand of hair between her fingers or even her fingers in her fingers. There's just something so utterly beautiful about a person who is lost in a thought, or adjusting their shirt, or is scratching a phantom itch on their arm, or even someone who is looking at someone else like I was looking at her.

Not that I wanted someone to look at her the way_ I _looked at her.

I had nearly dozed off again when there was a knock at the front rail. Without raising my head, I respond with a short hum. A meek whisper answers me this time, softly hushing a warm, "Kiba, you're still awake, right?" The voice pauses briefly for an answer, but continues shortly anyway. "Why don't we head downstairs? I'll make those waffles you _really_ like so, let's eat breakfast together, okay?"

_Ah, sweet Lord._

Trying to hide my smile, I cross my arms and dig my face into them, muttering a stubborn, "Don't want to."

Though, Hinata takes me seriously and frowns with eyes drooped like a Basset Hound, shaking my arm a little in hope of getting me out of bed. I dangle a bit, but, in the end, her notions were futile. It wasn't that I minded getting up and ready; in fact, I loved how the morning rise left orange over my already tanned skin and the sweet whistling of the wind as it passes through tree branches. It was just—_just_ _maybe_—I loved teasing my Hinata. I loved Hinata period. I really,_ really_ loved Hinata. Yeah, that was probably it.

But, of course, my Hinata didn't know that.

Despite that, her eyes lit as if some sort of bell rang and an idea hit her. "Does Kiba-hime still need his beauty sleep?" she attempts to question in an aloof matter, albeit the giggles that tickle at her throat.

I twitch at the question, jolting up in front of Hinata to show my fangs. _"Why you..."_ I begin, my words enunciated and dragged.

With my head hung low, my chocolate fringe overcasts my eyes and my nose points sharply at my prey. Hinata gulps at this in regret; not regretting enough to take back what she said, but still, nevertheless, regrets. With one quick swift, I latch onto Hinata's wrist and pull her down to my level and on to the drool-stained mattress—obviously not in the fault of Inuzuka Kiba—mustering something along the lines of _"I've caught you now."_

"Oh, no!" Hinata flails her arms out to the Heavens and cries out dramatically monotone, presenting her rather poor acting skills. "It's as if...it's as if...Princess Peach transformed into _Bowser!_"

_O__h, my God; she didn't._

I died a little inside, holding my sweetheart's face softly in my palms. "H-Honey, you know I love you," My voice shakes, teeth clenched firmly on my bottom lip, "but, _promise_ me you'll never audition for anything or do stand-up comedy, alright?" I finally break into laughter, snorts squeezing their way into the process here and there. In contrast, Hinata groans, patting (or rather _punching_) my shoulder to let her go, but the grip was just too hard and my luck of breathing was even harder.

"You're mean!" Hinata whines, pouting into my chest, as if I could see it. No, I could only wish.

* * *

**Sunday is burleywood **  
The scent of his chest.

* * *

I hated how much I loved him—not really; just during times like these. It just might have been the fact that I just loved Kiba too much. Things like my arms being glued to Kiba's shoulder blades and not budging since even _though_ I had made my frustration evident and the fact that I'd been breathing more than usual just to take in his 7:00 AM Burleywood Scent were clear evidence of that. Shaking the thought, I attempt to sneak a peek at his face, but fail, seeing that he was already staring down at me.

"You're cute," Kiba suddenly backfires, kissing my head—then eyes. My ears, nose, cheeks, chin, and finally, my lips.

_How sly._

I boo, subconsciously kissing him back. "Stop it. I'm not supposed to like you right now."

Smiles strike at Kiba's lips like tomahawks. It must have been contagious because no matter how hard I tried to fight it off, that same, stupid smile started creeping up on me too. Kiba quickly pecks my lips again—probably too quickly. "So, you _do_ like me?" He asks, pulling me illogically closer to him.

"W-When haven't I?" I stammer, saying something bolder than I usually would. Kiba covers his mouth before shouting a muffled gasp, poking my pale-complected right cheek. He questions my question and I tell him he wasn't mistaken, which was, more or less, probably something I shouldn't have done. Burying his face into my chest, he giggles like a love-struck child.

I sigh. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to be mad at him anymore; "_He's kind of cute," _I can't help but think. Without realizing, my nails were already starting to comb through his crazy, mane-like hair. I glowed at the texture; it was still soft due to the fact that it was too early in the morning for him to put any care products in it yet. In time, my fingers trail down his face and under his chin, lifting it up so I could see it for myself.

"Something wrong?" Kiba asks, gazing at me with half-opened eyes from the comfort of my hands.

I shake my head. "I like wasting my time staring at your _beautiful_ face," I tell him, happy that I was finally able to tell him something honestly. Kiba closes his eyes fully now, tilting his head so that I was now cupping his face. Seeing this made my heart tighten a little, as if it was squealing the squeal I couldn't at the moment. I wanted to hold him tightly in my arms, but couldn't bear to damage this picture. Instead, I kissed him like a fool.

_Like the fool that I was for him._

* * *

► Disclaimer

Masashi Kishimoto is the proud, spicy owner of NARUTO. I am not.

► Affiliates  
I should probably get to know people first.

► © Copyright  
2012 by SimpleTea unless stated otherwise ( like if an elephant potato man falcon punches me in the armpit—no, wait, no never mind ). Yes, all rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing form from the publisher, except a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection to a review for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast. Like that would happen.

► Author Note  
I've had experience writing fiction, but this is my first one here. I hope you will all treat me kind as I will do so with all of you. From now, happy reading everyone (:


End file.
